Paint me one

One of my father's favorite questions is, "What's your vision?" Now maybe out of fear, or uncertainty, or dare I say, resentment, I've sat on the receiving end of an interrogation to which I never seem able to respond. Needless to say I've spent the better majority of my life hating it. I guess I simply don't understand how one can choose or even paint their "vision." As human beings, are we even wired to have such intelligent foresight? To know or perhaps predict what the grand course of our lives will look like? And can't we only presume some degree of imminent danger must ensue when fixating on some great mental image of our future selves? That's not to say that I haven't had my fair share of plans, ideas of what I might like to pursue or explore, and goals I've written down on pieces of paper to be filed away. But how are we supposed to choose? How are we supposed to paint the image: begin, cultivate, and then cease, until we're left with nothing but this one concrete vision?

The past year of my life I've attempted to live simply, honestly, and purely in the moment. The primary goal?

Joy. Wonder. Fulfillment. Complete satisfaction.

This is a conceivable way of life for me. My mind can grasp the needs, wants, and desires of my heart and spirit in a given moment. What indications or repercussions a mentality such as this may have on the future? Or 'the vision'? Well, I have no real idea. All I know is this: if you can listen to that inner voice, that voice in the back of your mind challenging you to live by impulse and intuition and even spontaneity, then you've got as good a chance as anyone of figuring this whole thing out.

But then I got to thinking, wasn't it this way when we were kids? Life was simpler then. We were literally free of responsibility, and thus we knew how to live in the moment. Our primary goal?

Joy. Wonder. Fulfillment. Complete satisfaction.

Granted this was all on more elementary terms: our days filled with play dates, school lessons, and the epic choice between Legos and Candyland, broccoli or green beans, Nancy Drew or.... well, Nancy Drew. As children we had no concept of 'the vision.' Aside from the notions of wanting to be firemen and teachers and painters when we grew up, we had no real idea of what it meant to think about, let alone for the future.

And now I'm here. I've clearly acquired a number of responsibilities to accompany my growing adulthood. I have this question hanging overhead daily. Yet all I know is this desire- this need to live in the moment, with purpose, and integrity, and appetite. It's not about looking so far ahead and drawing a picture within the unknown, but rather, allowing the obscure and mysterious to reveal themselves through a focus honed in 'the now.'

So, my vision? I can't really say I have one...at least not in the way my father means when he asks the question. I'd like to think that within this life I will learn what it is to love and be loved, I will travel, meet new people, share experiences, teach others while also learning from them, make a contribution to the world, find that which sets my heart on fire, and never lose the essential hunger. My vision? It would be easy to say Grad School, Peace Corps, move to a new city, start a family, etc. etc. etc. But it's more appropriate to say: cultivate a life which yields at least four necessary pieces:

Joy. Wonder. Fulfillment. Complete Satisfaction.

Buddha said, "we are shaped by our thoughts; we become what we think. When the mind is pure, joy follows like a shadow that never leaves." And I mean, come on, he knew what was up.

the art of observation

Ansel Adams said:

“When words become unclear, I shall focus with photographs. When images become inadequate, I shall be content with silence.”

As of late, my discontent with words has sent me searching for other forms of inspiration. So this morning I stumbled upon some images which I find truly fulfilling in this realm.


Now that's what I call a library.


Mark Jenkins Art Installation: Tudela, Spain


Tallest Tree House in the World


Now that's Zen.